Seventh Year
by SlytherinLover69
Summary: Harry and the students in his year attend Hogwarts for their 7th year after the war. Romance and Drama ensue. Eventual HPDM slash, warning HPGW scene. Please R&R, comments appreciated. DH spoilers. CH 6 up 112107!
1. Chapter 1: The Apology

Harry awoke almost exactly an hour from when he fell asleep in his bed in Gryffindor tower. Exhausted as he was, his mind was still racing and his body flooded with adrenaline; to get any sleep quite yet was impossible. He reached for his glasses and slowly sat up. His whole body ached from the mental and physical exertion of battle. He stood up, grabbed his invisibility cloak and walked down through the doorway behind the portrait of the Fat Lady and toward the Carnage that was the Great Hall.

From behind the safety of his Invisibility Cloak, Harry saw to his surprise that there were still a lot of people in the Great Hall. Several witches and wizards that Harry recognized from his break-in at the ministry as Aurors were escorting the remaining Death Eaters, among them Lucius Malfoy, outside the castle so they could Disapparate them to Azkaban. He saw the Weasley family, still red-eyed from crying, still sitting and standing in the corner where Fred's body last was. He followed their gaze to a group of wizards who seemed to Harry to be the equivalents of Muggle Morticians. He wondered to himself if they had made arrangements with the Weasleys for Fred's funeral. Fresh tears began to trickle down Harry's cheek as he looked over at George Weasley, the mirror image and twin brother of his dead friend. George was gazing blankly at nothing in particular; he looked like a victim of the Dementor's kiss, cold, soulless and empty.

Harry jerked his head away from the Weasleys and repressed a sob as he continued to survey the room. About Fifteen feet from where he stood, he spotted Andromeda Tonks, who was locked in a tight embrace with a blonde woman whom it took Harry a moment to recognize. He let out an audible gasp as he realized this blonde was Andromeda's sister, Narcissa Malfoy. The Black family had disowned Andromeda years ago for being a "Blood Traitor", for she had married muggle-born Ted Tonks. But here was Narcissa, holding her sister like a good friend she hadn't seen in years. Both women had obviously been crying. Curious, Harry carefully crept closer to the Black sisters until he could hear parts of what they were saying over the drone of the crowd.

"So sorry Andromeda, she was so young…" Narcissa sobbed. They must have been talking about Tonks. Why would Narcissa care about her? Harry wondered bitterly. A better look at her face revealed that Narcissa was indeed upset; she wasn't wearing that haughty smirk that was always on her face any other time he'd seen her. "…all so wrong," Narcissa continued between choking sobs.

"And you allowed You Know Who into your home?" Andromeda was asking. Narcissa started to bawl even louder.

"We had no choice. The Dark Lord – You Know Who – was threatening my family, Andromeda. We had no choice but to… to let the Death Eaters take over our home. To let them rape me, in my own bed, in front of our sister, who did nothing to stop it and in front of my son… Draco…' she was saying between choking sobs, "…had to watch a teacher of his from school murdered in cold blood in our dining room… and that dirty bitch sister of ours Bellatrix, always hanging on the Dark Lord like some kind of evil whore…" The dark haired woman didn't seem to know what to think of this reunion with her sister, but embraced her again anyway.

I have to get out of here, thought Harry, I have to get some air… to breathe… he burst through the front gates and ran. His exhausted, worn body pushed every little bit of pain, of rage, of confusion and regret into his legs and he ran. By the time he stopped, he found himself in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, and there his mind exploded. He silently screamed that he should have been able to save Snape, the man who loved his mother, the man whom he hated for six long years, the man who protected him for six long years. If only he could have been there for Fred, for Colin Creevey, if he could have just won the TriWizard Tournament and never led Cedric to his death… if he could have cast a strong Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix before she took his Godfather from him… if only he'd never been born, his parents would still be alive and probably happily reading the Prophet together over coffee.

These thoughts had always tortured him before, little at a time, but now that his prophecy had been fulfilled, his life's work done, they all hit him at once and he cried, alone on the Quidditch pitch. At that very moment, Harry stopped crying, because he thought he heard someone. He was in no fit state to be answering any questions right now, and Rita Skeeter could be lurking around anywhere by now looking for an interview with The Chosen one. He listened very carefully for a minute before realizing that he was right, he wasn't alone, and that whomever was out there with him was crying as well. He silently got up to head back into the castle when someone called out to him timidly, almost in a whisper.

"Hey, Potter…"

Draco Malfoy. Harry started to walk away faster and Malfoy just called to him again. "I can see your trainers, you know. I know it's you."

Harry took the cloak off to reveal himself to a very distraught looking Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy. I can't even…"

"I'm sorry," Draco choked.

"… What?"

"I'm sorry Potter. I never wanted… I mean, I had to, my family was being threatened by the Dark Lord. Kill or be killed. What I am trying to say is, thank you for saving my arse back there n the room of requirement. And, when Fenrir caught you and Granger, I knew but I didn't say. I just... Thank you. I'm sorry." Draco turned away from Harry and began to walk in the other direction. Harry stood firmly in place, dumbfounded, for a minute before saying, "Malfoy!"

Draco turned around to look his former archenemy in the eye. His expression was unreadable. A million things raced though Harry's mind as he stared Draco in the eye and Draco stared back… First rage, that Draco had a hand in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Then somehow in the minute that felt like a lifetime, Harry felt himself feeling… pity. He felt sorry for Draco Malfoy. Draco did only as his overbearing father would allow him to so that he could carry out the prestigious Malfoy blood line. He'd never had much of a choice in anything in his life. And those awful things his mother was saying back in the Great Hall…

"I'm sorry too," Harry blurted out before even realizing what he was saying. "Now I think you know how it feels, to be born into something with no choice to escape," he continued. "I'm sorry that you know what it's like to be me."

Draco just looked at him for a moment, his expression still unreadable.

"I know what I've done and been involved in is not something that can ever be redeemed," Draco started. "But for what it's worth, I meant what I said. I'll be lucky if I'm not looking at a one-way ticket to Azkaban, and I will die a happy man some day just to have gotten that off my chest. I don't hate you Potter, I've never hated you. I've always been jealous of you, and I've always respected you, and for that I hated myself for that. There, I said it."

As Draco walked back to the Castle, Harry stood alone on the Quidditch Pitch, completely dumbfounded.


	2. Chapter 2: Ginny

The weeks following Fred's funeral passed like days. Things at the Burrow were beginning to return to normal, as much as things could be after the death of a family member. Charlie returned to Romania three days after the funeral, Bill and Fleur had gone back to Shell Cottage, and Percy moved back to London . He took another job at the Ministry under Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister for Magic, and was working for a new department responsible for the recompensation of witches and wizards with personal property damage during Voldemort's reign. George moved back to Diagon Alley and was still managing Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, but he moved out of the flat he and Fred had shared and was renting a smaller apartment above Olivander's. It was difficult enough for George to continue running the business he had shared with his dead twin; to live in the apartment they had shared was just too much to bear. Remaining at the Burrow were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the two youngest Weasleys and Harry Potter.

The Weasleys invited Harry to stay with them after the war and he was only happy to oblige. He wanted nothing to do with the Dursleys; he had packed everything that meant anything to him when he left last year with the subconscious assumption that he would probably die in battle with Voldemort, and he wasn't ready to return to Grimmauld place yet. He did have every intention of taking residence at Grimmauld place eventually, but he knew that where he belonged was with family, and the Weasleys were the only family he had as far as he was concerned. Besides, he thought, they needed him as much as he needed them. Every so often, Harry would catch Mrs. Weasley staring at the special Weasley family clock, and holding tight to the hand that had fallen off when Fred was killed. She kept it on the mantle right underneath the clock.

Ron certainly wasn't all together yet, either. He had a habit of punching holes through the nearest wall any time he saw something that reminded him of Fred, like a picture or piece of school parchment with his name on it. Making it even harder for him was the fact that Hermione had returned home to her parents. She had sent a few owls since her departure, but was for the most part working on reversing the memory modification charms she had preformed on her Muggle parents to protect them during the war. She had Healers form St. Mungo's helping her, and they were definitely making progress, but the Healers' general prognosis was that there were some things that they may never remember, and they might experience bouts of confusion for many years to come. Potions were sent for them from St. Mungo's every week to help their memories, and Hermione's last letter sounded far more optimistic than previous ones. Just the week before, Hermione happily wrote, her father talked about the first time she had ridden her bike. Ron was slowly becoming less withdrawn and angry, especially after Hermione's last letter promised a visit "soon". She was waiting for the special permission Muggle households required to be connected to the Floo network so that she could drop by without having to Apparate. She'd lost her taste for Apparation after Ron splinched himself so bad he'd almost bled out last winter.

Harry hadn't had more than casual contact with Ginny in the weeks that he'd been at the Burrow. On top of everything else, he was dreading having the inevitable relationship conversation with her, mostly because he knew how she felt, but not really how he felt. He knew she'd been half-heartedly avoiding him so he didn't feel pressured in that respect, but it wasn't helping. He didn't really know how he was supposed to feel. After completing the task he was given at age eleven when he'd entered the wizarding world, after years of accusations of fraud and flaunting his so-called "fame", after years of not knowing whether he would live to see his eighteenth year, and of general obligation and uncertainty, he felt... nothing. Harry wondered about this, shouldn't he feel something? Relief, remorse, joy, anxiety? He now had his whole life ahead of him, and for once he knew that for sure. The reason he'd broken it off with Ginny was that he hadn't known before, there was no certainty that he wouldn't die or be hurt or tortured, no certainty that he wouldn't bring her down with him. Now that he knew that wouldn't happen, why hadn't he run into Ginny's open arms? Harry didn't know.

Harry's birthday snuck up on him that year. It was the farthest thing from his mind when he'd rolled out of bed at ten-thirty that morning with ruffled hair and muggle pajamas, but at the breakfast table waiting for him was a large cake that was enchanted to hover over the table with charmed candles that didn't drip or burn out. "Wha..?" was all Harry could sleepily manage to mumble.

"Harry!" Exclaimed Hermione, who stepped out from behind Ron and flew toward him to wrap him in a tight hug.

"Hermione! Wow, how the hell are you?"

"Happy Birthday, mate!" said Ron, wearing a huge grin. "We were beginning to wonder if you were coming downstairs at all this morning. You didn't think we'd forget?"

"Wow - I mean, er, you didn't have to -- thanks," Harry stuttered before smiling warmly at everyone. Ron was eyeing the cake. Just as they were about to tuck into the large breakfast of pancakes, fruit and pastries Mrs. Weasley had prepared when there was a tap at the window. A large brown owl was outside with a piece of rolled-up parchment in each talon. Hermione got up and opened the window to let the owl in. She gave a knowing smile and said, "I got mine yesterday."

The owl flew in the window, gave a friendly hoot, and dropped one parchment in Harry's lap and the other in Ron's. Curious, the boys unrolled the parchment. Harry's said:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am writing to offer you the opportunity to finish your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Due to extenuating circumstances, many students in your year were unable to attend or finish your N.E.W.T. level spellwork and exams and the Governors all agree that all students in your year should be offered a chance to repeat their seventh year. I sincerely hope you will consider returning to Hogwarts this year to finish out your work._

_On a personal note, I would like to let you know that should you decide to return to Hogwarts, I would be honored for you to resume your post as the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, and I would like to extend to you the opportunity to be Head Boy of Hogwarts. Defeating the most powerful Dark Wizard the world has ever seen has to have its perks, and I am sure nobody will contest. Please contact me via Floo or send your reply back with Cepheus. I do hope you will continue your magical education, Mr. Potter, and I am sure that if you put in a reasonable effort this year, there will be a slot in the Auror Training Academy for you, if that is still what you aspire to do. _

_Sincerely yours,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of _

_Witchcraft and Wizardry _

"Bloody hell!" Ron gasped as he finished reading his letter. "I hadn't even thought about going back to school."

"Me, neither," Harry confessed. He had thought his relationship with Ginny had been the farthest thing from his mind, but he was wrong -- school was. He hadn't once stopped to think about going back to Hogwarts. Could he really return there and attend classes as though many of his classmates hadn't been slain on those very grounds? Could he really attend the Holiday Feasts, sitting in the very spot that he had seen the empty shells of his loved ones, Remus, Tonks, Fred...

Hermione broke his train of thought. "You're going right?" She asked excitedly. "I expected we might be able to take our N.E.W.T.'s, but I was sure we'd have to go through all sorts of appeals…"

"Ronald is going," Mrs. Weasley interjected. "Just because you're a war hero does not mean that you don't need to finish your education!" She lectured.

"Mum!" Ron snapped defiantly. "I am eighteen years old, and it is my decision…"

"Oh, no it's not, Ronald Weasley. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life waiting tables at the Leaky Cauldron…"

"You going, mate?" Ron asked Harry, ignoring his mother's assertions. Ginny looked up to Harry and met his eyes, probably quicker than she'd meant to. If Harry were to return to Hogwarts, they'd be in the same year together. Ginny flushed a little and brought her gaze indifferently back to her plate, which she started piling with pancakes and fruit.

"I -- well, I don't really, well, I suppose -- I have to think about it," Harry replied. He knew it would be in his best interest to return, but still, the memories…

"Oh, Harry, you should," Hermione said. "You know that if you still want to be an Auror --"

"That's what McGonagall wrote, too. She also said I could be Quidditch Captain again, and I really would love to get back on the Quidditch pitch," Harry told her. "She -- she wants me to be Head Boy,"

Hermione shrieked excitedly and stood up, knocking her chair over. "Harry, I'm going to be Head Girl!" She came at him to hug him so fast, he'd have sworn she'd apparated. At first, Harry hugged her back, but he looked at his best mate over Hermione's shoulder and saw a look in Ron's eyes that he knew all too well. He coolly patted her on the back a few times before saying, "Congratulations," and sitting back down. Harry was tired of Ron always feeling jealous of him, and tired of the inevitable rows they would get into over it, Harry claiming he never asked for any of this and Ron complaining that he was sick of living in Harry's shadow. "I just need to think about this a little before I make any kind of commitment is all," Harry said before helping himself to the large breakfast Mrs. Weasley had prepared for his birthday.

Lately when he wanted to be alone, Harry would throw on the Invisibility Cloak in the evening when everyone was settling down after supper and go sit under the large weeping willow tree just past Mrs. Weasley's lush garden. Sometimes he would weep, thinking about Sirius, and Professor Dumbledore, Lupin and Tonks, and even Professor Snape. How hard it must have been to have loved somebody so much in your life and have one wrong decision haunt you for the rest of your days. Part of Harry still hated Snape for the way he treated him, but he also – forgave him. He understood why Snape couldn't look at Harry without seeing his father. Tonight, though, he wasn't thinking about Snape, or Hogwarts – truthfully, McGonagall had him sold at "Quidditch", and he was quite looking forward to going back, he just didn't feel like jumping into anything right away. That evening, for whatever reason, found Harry thinking about Malfoy, about the night that Draco had apologized to him after the Dark Lord fell. It was strange, he always seemed like a right foul git, but now Harry thought he saw differently: Draco was just trying to live up to the standard that Lucius had set for him. He was trying to make his father proud. Hell, thought Harry, if I had a father to make proud, I'd probably do anything I could to do it, too.

At that moment, Harry heard soft footsteps coming up behind him, then next to him, and he looked up and saw Ginny. She sat down next to him and tucked her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She was completely oblivious to the fact that Harry was less than two feet from where she sat, ding the exact same as she, just sitting, thinking, watching…

He didn't want to startle her so he slowly removed the cloak and said in a voice so low it could have been a whisper, "Hi, Gin."

If she was startled by his presence, she didn't show it. She looked over at him and replied, "Hey. Didn't know you were sitting there, sorry if I interrupted anything. I don't want to intrude."

"You're not," said Harry, smiling slightly. If he was waiting for the moment to talk to Ginny about everything to come up and bite him in the arse, here it was. "Actually, I haven't been able to get a private moment with you lately, and I was hoping we could talk."

Ginny's expression was unreadable when she looked up and her eyes met his. She really does have beautiful eyes, Harry thought. "I'm sorry about how things ended between us, Gin. I just – I wanted what was best for you. I wanted you out of harm's way. I couldn't have lived knowing that something bad had happened to you as a direct result of your being with me."

"I understand, Harry," she said, "And I also understand that sometimes after something huge like this happens, things change."

"That's exactly it – I don't know if they have or haven't. I don't know how I feel. I know I love you, and I will always love you, but I just don't know it I love you the way I used to. It's hard to explain really, because when I look into your eyes, or – " his eyes reflexively moved from hers down to her perky, round breasts"—when I look at you, it's so…" Their eyes met once again, and Ginny straddled Harry; immediately he embraced her and they shared the most passionate kiss since Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Still straddling Harry and delicately biting the pale flesh on his neck, Ginny felt Harry getting hard between her legs and slowly began to work her hips on his lap.

Harry moaned quietly and Ginny whispered seductively, "I know how you feel right now, Harry Potter." She delicately brought her hands to his waist and slid them up his shirt, caressing his thin but muscular chest. She removed his tee shirt and he took her arms and placed them around his neck, kissing her hungrily as he moved his hand up her skirt and caressed her through her panties. He saw her nipples become erect and she whimpered. She rose to her knees and Harry pulled her panties down and began to tease her with his tongue. He could feel her getting wetter and as he gently licked and sucked her, he penetrated her with first one finger, then two, and just as she was about to climax, she moaned, "Fuck me, Harry." He un-zipped his jeans and pulled out his now rock hard cock and thrust into her as she settled herself down in his lap. He pulled the invisibility cloak over the top of them, and under the willow tree just beyond the lush garden at twilight on Harry's birthday, they made passionate love to each other for almost an hour. But even as he watched the moon rise and felt her climax again and again, even as he whispered in her ear and nibbled on her breasts, even as he thrust into her that final time and exploded inside her, Harry's mind was wandering elsewhere.


	3. Chapter 3: Decisions

Harry thought for sure that a night of passionate lovemaking would re-ignite his feelings for Ginny, the way it had the very first night, after the party the Gryffindors had to celebrate her winning them the Quidditch cup; instead it did the opposite and further complicated his feelings. He knew one thing was for sure, though, he really didn't feel right having sex with Ginny, and they weren't meant to be together like he had once thought. It didn't make him sad to have come to this conclusion; in fact, he felt like a fifty-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders having come to a true understanding of his feelings. What was bothering him now was how to tell Ginny. Harry knew she was still in love with him, and he really didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't want to be romantically involved with her either.

Fortunately, Ginny Weasley was mature enough to allow Harry his space, even after their encounter on his birthday. She acted no different than she had before, and Harry appreciated this more than she would ever know, but he knew he couldn't go on avoiding her forever. When the right time presents itself, he thought, and it will, we'll talk.

The day after his birthday, Harry sent McGonagall's owl back with a response that said he couldn't wait to come back, and that he would be flooing in to speak with her in person in a week, if that was OK with her. Along with his list of supplies for his seventh year, he received a response back from McGonagall that she would have tea ready at 7:00 p.m. on the 8th of August.

When the 8th came around, Harry went to the Weasleys' fireplace and removed the satchel of floo powder that hung on a hook off of the mantel. He threw a handful into the crackling fire and watched it turn from a warm orangey yellow to a cool green. Harry stepped into the green flame and said, "Minerva McGonagall's office, Hogwarts." He felt himself being pulled through the floo system and before he knew it he was standing, slightly shaken and covered in soot, in the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts. He reflexively pointed his wand on himself and thought "_scourgefy"_ before touching anything in the office.

Dumbledore had always maintained the office nicely, but, Professor McGonagall still had that undeniable woman's touch. Everything was polished and Harry could see his reflection in her desk. She'd replaced the carpeting with an oriental rug of deep scarlet and brilliant gold paisley. Harry smiled to himself as he noticed the Gryffindor colors that seemed to be the dominating motif in the room. "Absolutely delightful," a voice said from Harry's right. He turned around to face a winking portrait with a nameplate that read "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry was so happy to see him, he wished he could have hugged the portrait.

"I'm very glad that you've decided to finish out your education, Harry. It was a wise decision, and you know that. You have a bright future ahead of you. I also never got a chance to formally apologize to you, Harry. I was dishonest with you at times that maybe I shouldn't have been. I only hope you can forgive me." The way he said it was so casual, so _trite_, he might have been asking Harry whether he liked his new earmuffs. Harry had to smile.

"Of course," said Harry. "Everything worked out, and I hope it's OK if, well, if Professor McGonagall says, of course, if I could still come in here every so often and talk to you."

"Of course you can, Harry." Dumbledore's portrait smiled and Harry thought he saw a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"If you're the same Potter who was roaming these halls two years ago causing mischief everywhere he went, I imagine you'll be in this office quite frequently in any case," came the voice of Severus Snape from a neighboring portrait.

"Severus, is that really necessary?" Headmistress McGonagall had just entered the office.

"You know it to be true, Minerva. Well, welcome back, Potter," said Snape's portrait in that deep, slightly nasal and oddly soothing voice. "Hopefully you can improve your Potions skills from what they were when I taught here," he continued.

"I'll try, sir," said Harry with a slight smile. Snape's portrait raised an eyebrow as McGonagall escorted Harry to a set table and sat down across from him.

"What kind of tea would you like, Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"Whatever you're drinking will be fine, thank you," said Harry. He took a tea bag from the dish on the table and put it in his cup to steep. It looked like regular black tea, but the smell was light, sweet and almost flowery.

"My own blend," said Professor McGonagall.

"It smells delicious," Harry said. And it really did. "I came today to tell you that I am really excited to be Quidditch captain again," he began, "but I will have to decline your offer to place me as Head boy."

"Oh?"

"You see, Professor, I've spent the past seven years in the spotlight in one way or another, and really I would much rather be just Harry. Not the Chosen One, or the Boy who Lived, or even Head Boy, I just want to be… like everyone else. Besides, I think there's someone else who would be more than willing to accept the responsibility."

"I see. That's fine with me, Mr. Potter, as long as you pick us -- I mean, of course, _Gryffindor_ -- a good strong Quidditch team this year." McGonagall, as headmistress, could no longer be head of Gryffindor house as a result on an age-old statute to prevent bias over one house. "I'll send an owl to Mr. Weasley after I see you off," McGonagall said, smiling slightly.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

"Before you go, I also wanted to compliment the spell you cast when you walked in here, to remove the soot. I was in the doorway, waiting to give you a moment with Professors Dumbledore and Snape, should you have wanted it, and I noticed you cast it without speaking. _Scourgefy_, I assume?"

"Yes Professor, thank you. I… I guess I didn't really know I could do that, I just sort of did it," Harry replied. He had cast that spell without speaking, hadn't he? This could be fun, thought Harry.

"Well Mr. Potter, I have some Hogwarts business to attend to, and I'm hoping to get to bed as early as possible tonight, so I'm afraid I'll have to cut this meeting short. One last thing: now that you're of age, if you'd like to Apparate into Hogsmeade village the night before the start of term, I'll be happy to arrange for lodging for you and Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. Some students in your year have opted to stay the night in the Three Broomsticks Inn."

"Thank you, Professor, I'd like that," said Harry. "Ron and Hermione will probably want to find another way to get here though. Hermione doesn't like flying, and we had an incident last year when we were looking for, er, when we were in hiding. Hermione had to Apparate us out of a bad situation in a pinch, and Ron splinched so bad, he almost bled to death."

"My goodness!" gasped McGonagall. "Well, they know when and where to catch the train, I presume?" she asked, recomposing herself.

"Yes, Professor, I'll let them know." Harry turned to walk out, but first went over to the former Headmasters' portraits. "Good night, Professor Dumbledore. Good night, Professor Snape."

"Good night, Harry, I hope to see you again soon," came Dumbledore's reply. Snape said nothing; his portrait was empty.

Three weeks later, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny flooed into Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies. Ginny had most everything she needed, having attended Hogwarts last year, and Hermione had her books -- but for the most part, the three older Gryffindors had a lot of shopping to do. After a long day of shop-hopping from Gringott's Bank to Flourish and Blotts to the Apothecary and the Cauldron shop, they were ready to go home. Harry had one more thing to do, so he told them he'd catch up with them at the Burrow. Ginny had apparently taken this as an opportunity to catch Harry alone for a moment, and ran to catch up with him once the others had flooed out.

"Harry!"

Damn, Harry thought. I'll have to put off getting myself a good broomstick and face Ginny. It was now or never; it had been nearly a month since the night they hooked up and Harry was growing tired of worrying about what to say and when to say it, so he just turned to face her and went ahead and said it.

"Gin, it's not going to work."

She looked at him with pure melancholy in her eyes. He almost flinched, not knowing whether she'd be angry, or burst out in tears like Cho always used to, or feel taken advantage of because he'd slept with her while they weren't together…

"I know."

"Ginny, I'm so sorry, it's just that -- wha?" Harry had, in the moments after he told her it was over, prepared an impromptu speech in his mind, consisting of "it's not you, it's me" "I love you like a friend," and possibly "you came on to me, you know" or "please don't hit me"; he had been prepared for every possible reaction from Ginny except for this one.

"Harry, I love you, and you know I always will. But when I look in to your eyes, I know you don't feel the same as I do." Tears were trickling down her cheeks, and she seemed almost embarrassed about it. "I'll be OK." With that, she turned and walked away.

Harry stood there for a moment gawking dumbly at his feet. He felt like a complete arse, but at the same time an immense relief flooded over his entire being. Ginny took it as well as could be expected, and he was sure she was right, she would be OK. Probably better off than with him. For the first time in his entire life, Harry felt free of burden. He was indebted to no one, he was obligated to nothing, and he was going back home to Hogwarts. When the surprise wore off, he had to refrain from skipping down Diagon Alley to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where he bought himself a brand new Firebolt.


	4. Chapter 4: Hogsmeade

Harry was growing more and more excited to go back to Hogwarts. He felt giddy, like when he was eleven years old, awaiting his first trip into a new lifetime. He'd taken McGonagall up on her offer of free lodging at the Three Broomsticks the night before start of term, and he would be Apparating into Hogsmeade in just a few hours. Things were going well so far; Ron had gotten his owl about becoming Head Boy, causing Mrs. Weasley to hug him so tightly he couldn't breathe, and he and Hermione to put on a nauseating display of gratuitous snogging in the kitchen after Mrs. Weasley left. When Ron asked Harry what happened to him being Head Boy, Harry just shrugged and started talking about the Quidditch team he was planning on forming, and that was enough to distract Ron from the subject.

As Harry guessed, Ron and Hermione had opted to take the Hogwarts Express into school "for old times' sake" and because "it's really the last time we'll get to do it, you know." Harry knew the real reason, but he just nodded in agreement and went back to packing his trunk. It really does feel like first year all over again, thought Harry excitedly as he looked over his brand new books, quills, parchment, cauldron and supplies. He carefully packed his new Firebolt, still yet unwrapped so as not to get any marks on it before he took his first flight in almost a year and a half over the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. After his inheritance from Sirius, Harry had more than enough Galleons in his vault at Gringott's to buy Hogwarts itself. He wasn't usually very extravagant, but if he felt like he deserved anything, it was a good broomstick to play Quidditch with.

Ginny came up behind him as he was finishing locking up his trunk. "You coming with us to catch the train?"

Startled, Harry turned around and looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Ginny!" He recomposed himself and said "No, I'm going to apparate into Hogsmeade and stay at the Three Broomsticks. I just feel like, I don't know, having some quiet time."

"Oh," said Ginny, doing a poor job concealing her disappointment. "Luna and Neville are coming back this year, too. I just got an owl from Luna yesterday," she told him, cheering up at the mention of her friends.

"That's brilliant! Well, tell everyone on the train that I'll see them tomorrow." Harry smiled at her and she smiled back. He took one last look around his room at the Burrow to be sure he had everything. He wouldn't be coming back here anymore, not to stay anyway. Of course he would be visiting, but after his last year in Gryffindor tower, Harry was ready to move into Grimmauld Place . After ascertaining that he'd left nothing behind, he went downstairs to bid farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Not taking the train, Harry?" Molly asked.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I'll be staying in Hogsmeade tonight. I just, er, I don't even know how to say it… Thank you for everything, Mrs. Weasley. I never had a family to speak of, and you always took me into your home and shared everything you had with me. Thank you." He hugged her tight, and she didn't let go of him for a good minute and a half.

"You'll be back for Christmas, Harry dear," said Mrs. Weasley, who had tears in her eyes although she was smiling. This isn't good bye. Good luck in school!"

Arthur stood up and shook Harry's hand. "Thank you for everything, sir," he said to Mr. Weasley.

"Good luck, Harry, make sure you write, and we'll see you over Holiday break."

Harry went into the sitting room to see Ron and Ginny playing Exploding Snap, and Hermione reading _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven_. "Well mates, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have a safe trip!"

"I'll see you tomorrow, mate!"

"Goodbye, Harry." That was Ginny.

Harry walked out of the Burrow, took a look around, and Apparated into Hogsmeade village. He felt this odd sense of novelty, of a new life. He didn't know why; as much as he felt like he was returning home, and returning to familiarity, he also felt like a whole new chapter in his life was opening up.

Harry had Apparated right into the center of town. The first time he'd done that, he was carrying a dying Professor Dumbledore, the second time he was accosted by death eaters. He flinched at the memories, then shook them off. This time was different; that was another lifetime and this is a new life.

He went into the Three Broomsticks and ran into Madam Rosemerta, who showed him to his room upstairs. It was a small room, but comfortable, and the full-size bed was next to a large window on the west side of the inn from which the late afternoon sun was beginning to pour in, bathing everything in the room in a warm glow. On the other side of the bed was a small nightstand with an oil lamp on it and a drawer underneath. Harry sat on the bed and opened his trunk to remove a few items. He'd kept the mokeskin pouch Hagrid gave him for his last birthday, and kept a few keepsake items in it. He removed it from his trunk and placed it on the nightstand next to the bed. Next he unpacked some sleeping clothes he'd purposely packed on top, and a robe to throw on over his muggle clothes if he decided to go out tonight. He hung the robe and the bedclothes on a hook that protruded from the door.

He almost went to un-latch Hedwig's cage when he remembered with a pang of sorrow what happened to her. She was just another victim of involvement with Harry Potter. He brushed away the thought, walked over to the bed, and sat facing the window. He had a clear view of Hogsmeade Station, so he'd know when his friends arrived on the Hogwarts Express. He could also see the castle in the distance. Hogwarts, so many memories, good, bad and everything in between… For an hour or more, Harry sat on the bed at the inn staring out the window, letting his memories engulf him before deciding to take a long, hot shower.

After he'd dried off, Harry put his Muggle clothes back on, fashionably cut dark denim jeans and a faded green tee shirt that Harry noticed was a bit tight. He made a mental note to buy new Muggle clothes when he went to London and carelessly draped his robe on and stuck his wand in his back pocket. He went downstairs and out onto the main street and noticed that the sun had almost set.

The Hog's Head pub was across town from the Three Broomsticks, but still not too long a walk. When he reached the pub, he noticed a blonde-haired bloke with a ponytail walk in about 10 feet ahead of him. He followed the blonde in and was about to sit down and order a drink when he noticed that the blonde was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Before Harry knew what he was doing, he called out to him. "Oi, Malfoy!"

Draco turned around and Harry was surprised to see that Malfoy looked – good. His longish hair was pulled back carelessly into a ponytail, and although he was still thin and pale, his face had filled in a bit since the last time Harry'd seen him.

"Potter."

"What are you doing here, I mean, are you going back to Hogwarts this year too?" Harry couldn't help but wonder how Malfoy had gotten out of going out of Azkaban, when he'd had a Dark Mark branded on his arm and his father was a known Death Eater? Why would McGonagall be giving him another chance? Dumbledore maybe, but…

His train of thought was interrupted when Draco said, "Judging by the dumb look on your face, you're probably wondering why I'm not rotting in Azkaban with my father."

"Actually… I am a little curious," admitted Harry. "Er, I was going to sit down and have a drink, you want to join me?" Harry asked.

Draco looked around, and noticed he was getting dirty looks from a few of the regulars who probably heard the name "Malfoy" and flinched. Draco was beginning to look more like his father without the receding hairline and silver snake cane.. "Sure, why not?"

The two young men sat down together at a table in the corner and Harry ordered them each a glass of Firewhiskey. "You're one strange bloke, Potter," Draco mused.

"Why's that?" Harry asked.

"We spend six years fighting each other, and now you invite me to sit down with you for a drink like a friend or something."

"So, are you going back this year?" Harry asked, ignoring Draco's comment and taking a deep drink of liquor.

"Yeah, I am. I didn't really want to, in fact I still don't really want to," he replied. "After what happened – I mean with, you know. People are going to hate me, and I can't blame them for that. But I'm not going to pretend anymore. I'm not going to be my father's puppet like I have been all these years. I realized quite a few things about myself during the war, and one of them is that I've spent my life trying to pretend I'm something I'm not. It's going to be hard trying to convince everyone, though – why am I telling you this? Why do you care?" Draco wondered. He looked down at his glass and finished his drink in two quick swallows wincing slightly as it went down..

Harry took another deep drink, finishing off his own glass, and called the waiter over to order them a second. Maybe it was some kind of porphyrogenic effect the drink, but Harry was really enjoying hearing Draco talk. His voice was masculine, but soft with a slight drawl. It was almost strangely comforting to Harry, but he caught himself before that train of thought could escalate anywhere else and replied, "Well, that night, when – on the Quidditch pitch. I really felt like you meant what you said. And like I told you that night, I understand what it's like to be born into a life path without an escape. In a weird way…" he paused, thinking of how to say what he wanted to. "In a weird way, Malfoy, I don't think you and me are as different as we thought."

Draco studied him for a moment, maybe scanning his words for sarcasm or hidden meaning, maybe wondering if Harry had ulterior motives. He softened after a moment and said "Yeah, maybe not."

The waiter returned with two more glasses of Firewhiskey for the young men, and Harry tipped him well. "So did you get an owl from McGonagall too?"

"It's a long story Potter…" Draco started.

"I've got all night."

Draco gave Harry an almost playful looking grin and said "Well, okay.

Harry sat with left elbow on the table and his face cupped in his left hand. The other hand was lazily swirling the liquor around and round the glass in front of him as he listened to Draco talking.

"The trial for my mum and I was scheduled for a week after – after the night my father went back to Azkaban. I thought for sure I'd be doing time with my father, after letting the Death Eaters into the school sixth year." As he said this, the regret in his expression was unmistakable. "Harry, you have to understand that's not – I didn't want to kill him. I didn't want to bring Death Eaters into the school. I just wanted to succeed. Do you know what I mean by that?"

Draco took a large gulp of his drink and Harry did the same, realizing that he felt a strange sort of excitement hearing his name, Harry, not "Potter" roll off of Draco's tongue. He looked at his drink – he'd ordered Firewhiskey, not Absinthe, right? "Of course you don't know. I'm not trying to justify what I did. I'm rambling, I'm sorry. This stuff is kind of strong," said Draco, slightly chuckling.

"I was just thinking that myself," Harry agreed. "Up for another?"

"Definitely"

They ordered more drinks and Draco continued, "So at the trial, I was charged with criminal involvement with the Death Eaters, and with basically helping them break into Hogwarts, because I was of age when the crime occurred. Professor McGonagall was there at the trial, to I guess testify about my involvement, but it was the strangest thing – all she said was that she couldn't confirm or deny my involvement because she personally did not see me doing anything incriminating.

So the Wizengamot were deliberating over what to do with me, when McGonagall proposed that I be released in her custody, to finish my seventh year in Hogwarts. If I cause any trouble or my name is involved in any funny business this year, I have to serve 10 years in Azkaban. But if I can do well, I'm a free man." Draco swaggered slightly in his chair. "You know what I want to do, Potter?"

"What's that?"

Draco finished off his drink. "I want to be an Auror. Draco fuckin' Malfoy, the Auror." He laughed, and Harry laughed with him.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Harry mused.

"Dead serious. After all the shit I been through, I don't ever want anyone else ever going through all that." His words were becoming a little slurred.

Harry couldn't believe he was sitting here in the Hog's Head pub, laughing jovially and drinking with Draco Malfoy. He also couldn't believe how good Draco looked with his hair like that – or that he was even noticing such a thing.

Draco was staring at Harry with a slight smile on his face. Harry just stared back for a moment, and finished his drink. "You've probably got a story to tell, too" Draco drawled.

Harry laughed out loud. "Shit Draco, you don't even know. I mean – I don't even know where to begin."

Draco rested his chin on his hand and said, "I've got all night."

Harry looked at him again and said, "Alright." He ordered another round of drinks and started from the very beginning, telling Draco all about his horrible Muggle Aunt and Uncle, about that he could tell him without breaking his promise to Dumbledore. The story took a long time to recap, and both of them were more than a little tipsy by the time Harry concluded, "And then, all because of you disarming Dumbledore, that motherfucker took his own Avada Kedavra right in the face."

They laughed at that, and stayed at the Hog's head telling stories and laughing and drinking until the wee hours of the morning. Who cared? The Hogwarts express wouldn't be arriving until late in the afternoon; they could sleep all day and still arrive early. The more they talked and laughed together, the more connected they felt. They shared a lot of memories of Hogwarts, and more than once burst out laughing when talking about some of the times they'd butted heads while at school.

Aberforth Dumbledore stepped out from behind the bar, startling both Harry and Draco mid-conversation. "You kids know it's almost 3:30 in the morning?"

They looked at each other. "Shit!" Draco slurred.

"We're sorry, we'll get out of your way, let you close down," Harry said.

"See that you do." Harry threw a generous tip on the table for Aberforth and walked out with Draco. They stumbled their way back through town to the Three Broomsticks. Draco pulled a handful or Galleons out of his pocket. "Here, I owe you for the drinks."

"Don't be stupid. Why don't you come back to my room, I got a bottle of elf-made wine that I got for my birthday in my trunk, we can kill it off. Back to school tomorrow, might as well."

"I'm there." Draco and Harry stayed up, drinking, talking, laughing and crying together until almost dawn. Draco set down the three-quarters empty bottle of wine and laid down on the bed, his back facing the window. Harry did the same, facing Draco. Drunk as he was, Harry was more willing to admit to himself that it was exciting and comforting being this close to Draco. Their faces were inches apart, and Draco was looking into his new friend's brilliant green eyes. "Thanks, Potter," he said sleepily.

"For what?"

"Just for – for tonight, for listening, for being here. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Harry's eyes were beginning to roll back in his head; he was drunker than he could ever recall having been, and exhausted. He rolled over to face the nightstand and extinguished the oil lamp. Half asleep, he moved closer to the center of the bed to get comfortable. He was conscious long enough to feel Draco nudge closer to him and put an arm around his waist, and to clasp his hand over Draco's, pulling him in closer. At that instant, they were both asleep.


	5. Chapter 5: A Pleasant Surprise

Harry awoke a half an hour after Draco, sometime around two o'clock in the afternoon. Neither Draco nor Harry remembered falling asleep in each other's arms the night before, although neither forgot the bond that had formed in telling one another their stories. Harry groggily looked around and noticed that his trunk was open, and Draco sitting in front of the cauldron he'd removed. He'd conjured a stand for it, and was using his wand to ignite the wick on the oil lamp underneath it. "What the…"

Harry tried to sit up, but his body betrayed him. His head gave a mighty throb and his stomach lurched in protest. Harry fell back onto his pillow in defeat, and moaned, "Merlin.."

"Hey Potter. I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed your cauldron and a few of your Potions supplies." After seeing the questioning look on Harry's face, Draco continued, "Don't worry, I wasn't going through your things."

"No, it's just… Merlin, Malfoy, classes haven't even begin and you're already working on a way to kiss Slughorn's arse?"

Draco tried to laugh but his head was pounding so hard it came out more like a cough followed by a groan. "Snape showed me a quick remedy for a Firewhiskey hangover fifth year. It's a long story, but he found a few of us passed out in the Slytherin common room three hours after classes had started. After smacking us around a bit, he jotted down some instructions and left."

"Wow, good thing Snape actually liked you. If it had been me, he probably would have spent three hours "practicing" his Cruciatus Curse on me. Just to make sure he was good enough to trick Voldemort, of course."

Draco slightly winced at the use of Voldemort's name. "Snape and father were – well, they were friends at school," Draco said. "I wouldn't go as far as to say Snape really _liked _anyone, he just didn't take points from us because we were in his House, and because he knew my father.

"Now that you're up, I'd rather not be going through your trunk," said Draco. "Can you find Pomegranate extract and powdered Echinacea? They usually come standard with the Potions kit if you get your school supplies from the Apothecary at Diagon Alley."

Harry forced himself to sit up again, this time succeeding. He groaned loudly, his head throbbing as he felt around for his wand and glasses. He carelessly pointed at his trunk and thought "_accio_" and surprisingly, the ingredients Draco asked for flew obediently into his hand.

"Impressive," Draco mused, then muttered, "_Accio."_

Draco immediately and skillfully began to mix the ingredients. For twenty agonizing minutes, Harry and Draco sat and watched the gooey concoction boil, with Draco stirring it this way or that every so often. They watched it turn to yellow, blue, and finally a rose color when Draco said "_Aguamenti!" _With a flick of his wand, about a cup's worth of ice cold water poured into the cauldron, sizzling as it hit the boiling goo. Draco mixed it one more time and it turned into something that looked almost like fruit juice. They divided it into two cups Harry conjured. "Cheers, mate," said Draco. "This stuff is bitter, but make sure you take it all."

They knocked back the bitter pink liquid just as they had the many servings of liquor the night before. Harry noticed improvement immediately after setting his cup down. He was able to stand up and stretch without his head pounding in protest. "Greasy git or not, Snape sure knows his shit when it comes to Potions," Harry commented. "And you just mixed that right up without any kind of instruction. I think you might have to help me with potions this year."

Draco blushed. "What are you talking about? Sixth year, you were at the top of Slughorn's class!"

"Er," Harry said. "That's a long story. I had help."

"Saint Potter cheated in school? Ha!" Draco chuckled.

"Well, it wasn't necessarily cheating. Snape told me I couldn't continue onto N.E.W.T. level Potions without an "O" on my O.W.L. I did well, but not that well so I didn't get any books or supplies that year. Then when we're getting our schedules, McGonagall tells me that Slughorn will still take me into his class, and that if I wanted to continue into Auror Training Academy, I needed a N.E.W.T. in Potions. I didn't have any supplies that year so I borrowed some from the classroom. Turns out, the textbook I had was Snape's when he was in school. He really was a bloody genius. He had marked up the book with all kinds of shortcuts and hints and spells," Harry told him. He suddenly had a vivid mental flash of Draco laid out in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, sliced open, bleeding… So much blood... If Snape hadn't shown up…

"Hey, Potter, you still with me?"

Harry's head snapped up and his eye's met Draco's. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"I – I just remembered the time in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Sixth year. I'd read the spell in Snape's Potions book, and I didn't know what it was going to do, it just said…" it had said, 'For Enemies.' "I just didn't know what it did so when I ran into you, and you were going to…"

Draco unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing, exposing his bare chest. He was actually in pretty good shape, aside from being on the thin side. Harry's eyes moved from Draco's toned chest to a deep scar across his stomach.

"It's nothing, Potter, really. I was going to torture you. I'd have done the same. That was just such a bad day. I was in there… I was crying, talking to that bloody ghost girl that haunts the toilets. Don't you dare make fun of me!" Draco warned.

"Merlin, Draco, I'm awful sorry."

Draco looked up and met Harry's brilliant green eyes again at the sound of his name. He tried to casually button his shirt back up and asked, "What was that spell anyway? That was vicious. It couldn't have been "_Diffindo"_ or I'd have been dead on the spot."

"Sectumsempra," Harry told him, saying it very carefully.

"Never heard of it."

"I think Snape invented it," Harry said, his voice tinged with half disgust and half admiration.

"Wow."

They walked downstairs to get something to eat, and decided when Harry saw the Hogwarts Express coming out his window, he'd come down and get Draco in his room and they'd walk over to meet McGonagall together. They ate and chatted about school before parting ways. As Harry walked up to his room, he was excited and disturbed to realize he couldn't stop thinking about Draco. Harry didn't know it, but Draco was thinking about him, too.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Hurry up and put on your Robes, Ron, we're almost to Hogwarts" Hermione nagged. Ron wasn't even listening, he was staring out the window with a sullen look on his face. "What's gotten into you?"

"I was just thinking."

"About?"

Ron sighed. "Harry. Harry fucking Potter. All summer, he was the hero, he got all of the attention and all of the recognition. You know, 'Mione, without us he'd have been dead and Voldemort would probably have the whole Wizarding world under his control right now. But nobody sees that. Nobody cares. It's always Harry this, and Harry that. I just get sick of hearing it once in awhile, and I'm sick of living in his shadow."

Hermione was stunned at how hateful and nasty her boyfriend sounded. "Ron, you're his best friend. He knows he couldn't have done this without you – without us – you know, you're starting to sound like Malfoy."

"After an entire summer of nothing but everyone obsessing on Harry Potter for being the hero, I'm beginning to see where that bloke was coming from." Hermione said nothing and changed into her robes before sitting down across from Ron and opening a book. She looked over the top and saw Ron, staring out the window with that dark look on his face again.

Ron and Hermione were silent for the rest of the ride, and the train pulled up to Hogwarts at nineteen hundred hours. Everyone habitually filed off the train, and Hagrid could be heard over the din, saying "Firs' years., this way. Firs' years, over here." They met up with Neville, Luna and Ginny and exchanged hugs and hellos, and whatever came over Ron during that last part of the ride seemed to fade away as he hugged Luna and shook Neville's hand.

"How was your summer, mate?" Ron asked Neville.

"It was nice and quiet, I spent a lot of time in my greenhouse," Neville replied. I had to help out Gran more than usual, I think the war took a lot out of her. But mostly it was nice to be able to relax after how awful things were last year. I was surprised to get the letter from McGonagall – I wasn't sure what we were going to do about school."

"I'm glad you all came back," said Luna dreamily. "Where's Harry, did he come back to school, too?"

Ron almost scowled, before saying "He didn't want to take the Hogwarts Express, so he Apparated into Hogsmeade last night. I suppose _celebrities _like him don't need to take the train to school."

"Ron!" Hermione smacked him on the arm.

"Why don't we follow the crowd and see if we can find him," Ginny suggested. They followed the crowd into the Castle and through the corridor to the Great Hall. They made their way over to the Gryffindor table and took their seats. The sorting of the first years would begin soon, as would the welcome banquet.

"Do you think the Sorting Hat will still be putting people in Slytherin after everything that happened?" Neville asked, not addressing anyone in particular.

"Salazar Slytherin, as bigoted and outdated as his ideas my have been, took a large role in founding this school. If anyone else has ever read _Hogwarts, A History, _They'd know that he –"

"Hermione, really, I'll bet you McGonagall herself never read that rubbish," Ron interrupted.

"Look, there's Harry, over with that Death Eater boy," said Luna casually.

The Gryffindors at the table looked over at the Slytherin table, where Harry was standing next to Malfoy, talking and chuckling jovially. "Malfoy?! What the bloody hell? Why isn't he in Azkaban?!" Ron demanded. "And what the hell is Harry doing over there?"

At that moment, Harry looked up and spotted his friends over at the Gryffindor table. He smiled and waved, said something to Draco, who nodded, then walked over to his own house table. "Alright, Ron, Hermione, Ginny. Neville, Luna, great to see you. I think it's brilliant of McGonagall to let us come back this year, don't you?"

Harry's friends were looking at him like he had three heads, except for Luna who was looking up at the ceiling. It was still enchanted to replicate the sky above the castle, and tonight was a clear night and the moon was directly overhead. "Harry, not that it's any of my business, but was that Draco Malfoy you were talking to over there?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, ran into him last night at the Hog's Head. We had a few drinks last night."

"That's it, he's lost his mind," said Ron. "Harry, do you not remember Malfoy trying to kill Dumbledore, and being, oh, I don't know, a Death Eater?"

"Well, I remember Snape killing Dumbledore, being as I was there, and I'm well aware of Malfoy's past dealings with Voldemort. All I can say is he's really alright, and things aren't always as they seem. You might like him if you got to know him, really."

"Harry, are you feeling alright?' asked Ginny.

"Never better, said Harry, beginning to get annoyed. "Listen, this is really exciting, we're back at Hogwarts after everything that happened, and all you guys can talk about is Malfoy? Let's talk Quidditch! Ron, I was hoping you'd be Keeper again, and Ginny, are you still interested in Chaser? I'm hoping to get tryouts sometime in the next week so we can get a head start on practice," Harry said excitedly.

"I'll still play, as long as you don't get soft on us against the Slytherin team because of your new boyfriend, there," Ron said nastily, gesturing to Malfoy. Harry hoped nobody noticed him slightly blushing at the boyfriend comment. "I don't care if you want to be friends with Malfoy, but don't expect me to be."

"Just be careful, Harry," Hermione added. "He could be up to something. Harry rolled his eyes and turned in his seat to face the line of first years waiting to be sorted. At that moment, the Sorting Hat began its song, and subsequently sorted all 65 of the first years into the four houses. Professor McGonagall sat in the seat at the High Table where Harry was used to seeing Dumbledore sit. After the last of the new students was sorted into Ravenclaw, McGonagall rose to speak.

"I'll only take a moment of your time, and the banquet will begin shortly. First, a few words," she began. "For those of you who don't know me, I am Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, and your Transfiguration teacher. I would like to inform all of you that this year, absolutely NO nonsense will be tolerated. We have just come into times of peace from a time of great loss and destruction. We, as witches and wizards, are all united, and all on the same team. I will not tolerate any student discriminating against another student based on blood status or House membership. Any student caught doing this will be expelled quicker than they can blink.

"I would also like to inform you that due to circumstances beyond my control, the dungeons will be off limits to all Hogwarts students and staff this year. As a result, the Slytherin House members will not be taking residence there as they usually do, and I don't want to hear a peep from any of you in regards to the arrangements that have been made. The Gryffindor tower dormitories have been magically expanded to accommodate both the Gryffindors and the Slytherins this year. You will share a common room; however each house will have its own set of dormitories."

Draco and Harry caught each other's eyes across the room and smiled discreetly; Ron noticed and his face contorted into a grimace.

Professor McGonagall continued. "This merging of two Houses with such different ideals in the past should serve as a valuable lesson in unity and friendship. Again, I expect there will be no problems. If one should arise, I ask that students come directly to me and it will be handled immediately."

"One final thing and you are free to enjoy the feast. Quidditch tryouts will be held at your House Captain's leisure, please see him or her if you are interested in playing. That will be all. After the feast, follow your prefects to your dormitories and we will meet again for breakfast, when you will receive your class schedules. Enjoy!"

And with that, the plates on all of the tables filled with scrumptious foods and the students ate, talked and laughed until it was time to go up and sleep. Ron and Hermione as Head Boy and Girl had to stay back and talk to McGonagall while the prefects led the other students to their dormitories. Harry lagged behind and waited for Draco to catch up.

"What luck, getting placed in the same dormitory, huh?" said Draco with a smile. "Who'd have thought?'

"Not me," said Harry. "Not in a million years." They continued up the stairs to the portrait of the Fat Lady. The password was "Acid Pops" and they entered the common room, which was the same as it had ever been only twice the size.

"Nice," said Draco. The Slytherin common room in the dungeons was never this cozy." He plopped into a large plush armchair.

"Well, I'm going up to bed," said Harry. "Good night." He smiled at Draco, and Draco smiled back.

"See you in the morning, then?"

"Definitely."


	6. Chapter 6: Jealousy

Despite how many things had changed, Harry just couldn't wrap his mind around how much everything felt the same in the comfort of Hogwarts. On the first day of classes, he went down to breakfast, received a bone-crushing hug from Hagrid, and sat down to eat. Hermione sat between him and Ron, because Ron was being snide and moody and Harry wasn't about to let it spoil his day. After Breakfast, McGonagall handed out class schedules and Harry was assigned the same classes he took in his sixth year. He was thrilled to see that he had a free period after lunch, which made up for the fact that he had Potions first thing in the morning. Then he had Transfiguration, Herbology, and then after his free period he had Charms and his favorite class, Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wondered to himself who the new teacher was and what material they would be covering.

Harry walked off to the Potions classroom, which was now on the first floor due to the mysterious taboo on the dungeons. He remembered that Gryffindor usually doubled this class with the Slytherins, and was happy to see an empty seat next to Draco. Harry waved to Ron, Hermione and Neville, who was sitting in his usual spot at the bench, and kept walking across the room to where the Slytherins sat over to Draco's bench. They got a couple of curious looks from the Gryffindors and the Slytherins were mutinous, but they said nothing. McGonagall was very serious about her new anti-discrimination policy; rumor had it she'd sent a fourth year home just last night, before classes had even begun, for calling another student "Mudblood."

Professor Slughorn strolled into the classroom Five minutes late, his beady eyes twinkling. "Harry! Good to see you. Looking forward to your superior potions this year!"

Harry raised his eyebrows and mumbled something indistinguishable. Thankfully Slughorn was already running late and didn't pursue conversation with Harry. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Slughorn began to lecture about healing potions and their practical uses. Draco smirked and Harry elbowed him. "Fine! I suck at Potions," Harry hissed. "Will you help me and not be an arse about it?"

"Definitely," Draco said, smiling. There were definitely advantages to hanging around someone who had spent the last six years as Snape's pet. Slughorn lectured for another twenty minutes before assigning a Calming Draught.

"This shouldn't take anymore than an hour to prepare, although I am sure some of you will finish before the hour is up." He winked at Harry, and Harry cringed. "As soon as you have your vial ready to submit, you are free to leave. All of the necessary ingredients should be in your Advanced Potions kits, except for the Poppies, which I will be providing. Now, don't any of you go sneaking off with any of this, the good batches will be sent to Madam Pomfrey for the Hospital wing, and the others properly discarded. Good luck!"

Slughorn distributed the Poppies to each table and sat down at the desk at the front of the room with an open book. Harry was thankful for his lack of attentiveness as he opened hi Potions book to the right page. "This is the same book we had sixth year," Harry noticed.

"Mhm," Draco agreed distractedly as he lit a fire under his cauldron. Harry did the same.

"I wonder - I wonder if Snape's book is still in the room of requirement…"

This made Draco look up from his work. "Hey -- yeah we should go look for it."

"It might have been destroyed when –" Harry started. He remembered that Crabbe, a good friend of Draco's, was killed in the fire that ravaged the Room of requirement. "You know."

Draco looked distant for a moment before he snapped out of it and said "Well, it's worth a shot, sounds like there's an awful lot of good stuff in that book."

"Yeah. So okay, Calming Draught. Lets see, we need Peppermint Leaf, Essence of Belladonna, and something from these poppies…"

"We need to extract the sap from the inside if the poppies. Here, watch." Draco took a small silver blade and scraped the sap out of five poppies. He scraped the sap into his cauldron. Harry started trying to do the same and poked a hole though his poppy.

"Shit!" he swore.

"No, you have to angle it right, like this." Without thinking, Draco placed his hand over Harry's and showed him how he had just done it. Harry felt something like electricity when their hands touched; their eyes met and Harry knew Draco had felt it too. After a minute Draco removed his hand from Harry's, blushing, and said "You got it. Now just four more."

Harry managed to distractedly extract enough sap to move on to the next step of the potion. They chopped and diced the rest of the ingredients as the book said, Harry with a little guidance from Draco, and after about twenty minutes they were ready to start stirring. The Calming Draught would, if stirred properly, turn from brown to deep blue. Harry followed the directions exactly as they were in the book, still very distracted by the electric feeling he had when Draco's hand touched his. It almost reminded him of the first time he and Ginny kissed in the Gryffindor common room, only… better. He's a bloke, Harry reminded himself.

Harry and Draco stirred their potions for ten minutes and they both came out exactly as the book said. Harry filled his vial and walked smugly over to Hermione, Ron and Neville and showed them his vial. "And I did it without Snape's potions book," he said, rubbing it in. Hermione was still stirring hers and Ron's was bright green. Neville was still adding his Extract of Belladonna, and Harry noticed he hadn't even added his peppermint leaf yet.

"Good for you, Harry," Hermione said sardonically. She smiled at him though, and said "Well, I'll see you later in DADA. I've got Arithmancy next and Ron and I signed up for Care of Magical Creatures to get in all of our elective credits.

"Oh – OK then." Ron just stared at Harry. "See you later, then, mates," Harry said to Neville and Ron.

"Not bad, Harry, not bad!" Slughorn said approvingly "Mr. Malfoy, good work. Well, you two are excused, I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry and Draco left Slughorn's classroom Harry heaved a sigh of relief. They headed up to the Gryffindor/Slytherin common room; there was a half an hour left before they had to go to their next classes. They set their books down and fell into two of the cozy armchairs by the fireplace. "Thanks for your help with Potions, Draco, I appreciate it. I would have had a lot of explaining to do to Slughorn if my work was – well, if it was the way it was before I had Snape's Potions book."

"We should go look for it."

"Maybe after supper," Harry suggested. He didn't feel like being late to McGonagall's class on the first day. He knew from experience that would only lead to trouble. "It would take awhile to find it, there's a lot of junk in there."

Draco pulled something out of his pocket and snickered. "What's that?"

"Something I brewed up when Slughorn wasn't looking while you were trying to figure out how to stir your potion," Draco said smugly.

Harry stared at him for a moment before laughing. "You are such an arse," he said. "So what does it do?"

"Let's find out." Draco uncorked it and swigged down half of it before handing it to Harry. "We've got Transfiguration next. This will make it more fun."

"Why not?" said Harry before downing the rest of Draco's mystery potion.

Harry looked over at Draco and a huge grin crept over his face. "Wow, I feel… great!" He felt an immediate sense of euphoria, on top of a feeling of immense happiness.

"Yeah," Draco said. "McGonagall's class _is_ going to be fun now. I'm going to Transfigure her desk into a toilet." The two young men started cracking up with laughter.

Harry, with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard, said "You know, after she took all of Slytherin's points away, she'd probably give you extra credit for the advanced magic that would take.

The rest of the morning went by fast; Draco was right, his potion did make classes a lot more fun. McGonagall was in good spirits, and Harry transfigured his textbook perfectly into a champagne flute and then back into a textbook. In Charms, Flitwick had them charm their quills to dance in circles, which was amusing and funny for Harry to watch.

By lunchtime, the effects of Draco's potion had worn off and Harry was feeling normal again. He saw Draco chatting with a couple of fifth year Slytherins and went to sit with Hermione and Ron. "How's class going?

"Hi, Harry – Arithmancy's a lot tougher than I thought this year, but if I study enough, I think I can scrape a N.E.W.T.," Hermione replied. "Have you heard about the new Defense teacher? I guess he comes from Durmstrang," she informed everyone. "Professor Vlad Dobrev. I guess he's pretty tough."

"If he's from Durmstrang, we'll be lucky if he's not _teaching_ Dark Arts," Ron said.

"McGonagall must have had her reasons for hiring him," Hermione said. "I would imagine that after the war, she'd want to be really cautious about who to let into the school."

"Ron, you haven't said much in the past two days, is anything the matter?" Harry asked.

Ron just looked at him. "No," he said.

"Seriously, mate, what is your problem? If I didn't know better, I'd think you hated me."

"You really want to know, Harry? Well, first off, I am sick and tired of living in your shadow. Ever since we came back to school, ever since the end of the war, it's always 'Harry Potter' this and 'Harry Potter' that. Then you break my sister's heart and don't even seem hurt or bothered in the least. Now, since we've been back, you've been running around with your little Death Eater boyfriend," Ron said angrily.

Harry was stunned. Hermione had buried her face in her hands, looking embarrassed at Ron's behavior. "You know, Ron," Harry began after a few long moments of awkward silence, "I declined Head Boy this year because I didn't want to deal with your bloody jealousy issues. I also did it because I don't want _anyone_ living in my shadow. I just want to enjoy, for once in my life, being just like everyone else. Can't you let me do that? I'm sorry I had to kill Voldemort. I had no choice. If I could have let you have the glory and _Avada Kedavra_ the sonofabitch, I would have. I can't help that I was born under this stupid prophecy, and now that it's over, I would really like to just forget about it."

With that, Harry stormed off, with Hermione calling after him, "Harry, wait!" She turned around to face Ron and slapped him across the face. "I have no idea what has gotten into you, Ronald Weasley, but I think I would rather hang out with Harry and Malfoy." She stormed off too, leaving Ron among the other Gryffindors, who were trying to pretend that they didn't notice the argument that had just taken place.

Harry, thankfully, had Herbology with Neville, who was his partner while they worked with the plants. Harry was so livid with Ron he couldn't even concentrate. What the bloody hell was he talking about? Harry'd gone out of his way through their entire friendship to dance around Ron's ego, and this was how Ron was going to repay him? "That fucking prat!" Harry said out loud at one point, barely missing a sharp, prickly pod with his fist when he brought it down on the bench.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" Neville asked.

Harry looked up at him. "Sorry, mate. I just can't believe Ron. I ought to clock him and then he can have a scar on _his_ face for everyone to gawk at."

Neville shifted awkwardly before switching the subject back to class. Harry took in absolutely nothing that afternoon in Herbology or Defense -- not that he really needed to pay much attention to the latter. The Gryffindors had Defense doubled with the Slytherins as usual. Harry and Draco found seats in the back as far away from Ron as possible, and Hermione sat next to Harry. Draco gave her a few strange glances when she wasn't looking, but eventually warmed up to her and within minutes the three were sharing a whispered conversation.

Professor Dobrev was exactly as Harry had pictured him: dark hair, a manicured moustache and goatee, a piercing stare and a tall, thin build. When he spoke, his accent was very harsh, and, much like Snape when he taught Defense, he seemed to be very passionate about the Dark Arts themselves. That day, he was lecturing about the theory behind using and resisting an Imperius Curse.

"I could probably Imperius him to end class right now," Draco whispered with a muffled snort. Hermione looked appalled at first, but then Harry began to chuckle and eventually so did she. The rest of the class was spent in quiet conversation between Hermione, Harry and Draco. Ron was not happy, but stared ahead, never taking his eyes from the front of the classroom. As the class started to leave, Dobrev called to them "I want a foot of parchment tomorrow afternoon on resisting the Imperius curse." He grabbed Harry's shoulder as he was walking out and said "You must be Harry Potter. Nice to finally meet you."

Harry hesitantly shook his new Professor's hand. "I wanted to shake hands with the man who singlehandedly took out the Dark Lord." Ron, listening from outside the door, was absolutely livid at that "singlehandedly" remark. Had Harry been able to see him, he'd have seen the scowl that was contorting Ron's face and the mutiny in his eyes.

"Er," Harry said awkwardly. "I had help."

"Don't be modest, boy! We've all heard the stories. Faced the Dark Lord himself fourth year, and foiled him again fifth!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Well, Professor, it was nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to your class." As he walked out of the room, Harry could feel Dobrev's eyes burning into his back.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Draco asked. "That guy's strange."

Harry agreed and they made their way back to the common room. There was, indeed, something unsettling about Professor Dobrev. His piercing stare stuck with Harry for the rest of the evening.


End file.
